Hittin' It Out the Park (11 page)

Annoyed with Yusef, Sexy took a trip to the restroom to get away from him for a few moments. Inside the restroom, two attractive women were checking out their reflections in the mirror, touching up their makeup, and gossiping.

“That heifer needs to be working for the Secret Service the way she keeps close tabs on her man. She's practically joined at the hip with Randy, and it's not a good look. Cheryl needs to lengthen the leash on her husband—at least for tonight.”

“I know, right? It's his birthday, after all, and she should get from up under him, and give him some breathing room,” the other woman chimed in with her mouth turned down in disapproval.

“Birthday or not, she's so afraid of losing her Mega-Millions Man, I doubt if she'll let him out of her sight for one minute, tonight.”

“We can't put all the blame on Cheryl, though. I heard that Randy's nose is so wide open, the groupies don't stand a chance. Word on the street is that Cheryl has him so whipped, he won't even sign autographs for good-looking women unless Cheryl gives him permission.”

Sexy approached the mirror, and the two chicks looked her up and down sneeringly before departing the restroom.

Haters!
Gazing at her image, Sexy reflected on what she'd overheard about the birthday boy.
So, he earns mega-millions, does he? I wonder exactly how much? I bet a man making big bucks wouldn't complain if his woman bought a forty-five-hundred-dollar dress.

She hadn't met Randy Alston or his wife, yet, and after overhearing the gossip about their marriage, Sexy was eager to meet the couple. She didn't care how gorgeous his wife was reported to be, Sexy highly doubted if Randy's wife or any other woman at the party looked better than she did.

Loving a challenge, Sexy smiled maliciously as she made a bet with herself that she could not only get Randy's attention, but could also steal his heart away from his stupid-ass, jealous wife.

When Sexy exited the restroom, Yusef was waiting outside the door. “Why'd you stay in there so long? Randy and his wife just arrived and we missed shouting out, ‘Surprise!' ” Yusef said with a note of hostility in his voice.

Sexy shot him a disapproving look. “I don't give a shit about shouting,
surprise.
What are we, six-year-olds? Goddamn!”

Yusef relaxed his facial muscles. “Nah, nah. It's not like that. It's all good. But I want to introduce you to Randy and Cheryl before this place gets so packed and you can hardly have a decent conversation.” He ran a caressing finger down the side of Sexy's face. “Schmoozing with the Alstons can't hurt. So, be extra polite to his wife.”

Holding Sexy's hand, Yusef led her over to where Randy and Cheryl were holding court. Cheryl's beauty couldn't be denied. She was dressed elegantly in a silk ivory dress with a long slit up one side, and she carried herself with the dignity of an aristocrat, Sexy noticed with disdain.

But Cheryl's demeanor and haute couture didn't intimidate Sexy. After years of ritzy prep schools, and a lifetime of being under the tutelage of her socialite mother, Sexy had been well-groomed and was completely aware of proper etiquette at social gatherings. However, after observing the way Randy's eyes traveled over her body, Sexy decided to forget about social graces. Presenting her slut-side would be the quickest way to get what she wanted.

“Hi, there,” she said with a sultry smile when Yusef introduced her to Randy. Randy actually blushed, and his wife inhaled sharply, obviously livid.

“Sexy Sanchez? What's that, your stripper name?” Cheryl blurted as she possessively hooked her arm into Randy's.

Sexy laughed. “I'm not a stripper, and although Sexy's not my birth name, I had it changed legally for obvious reasons.”

Cheryl opened her mouth and then closed it. Blinking rapidly, she steered Randy away from Sexy and Yusef, and began greeting other guests.

“What was that all about? Why'd you embarrass me like that?” Yusef asked angrily.

“What?” Sexy asked with a shrug, and then left Yusef standing alone as she meandered over to the bar. She sipped champagne and plotted on her next move. If that Cheryl bitch thought she was going to keep her husband away from Sexy, she had better think again.

Sexy glanced to her right and there was Randy, conversing with an older white man with silver hair and tanned skin. Sexy assumed the man had money and power, judging by the way he was able to have a discreet conversation with Randy without Cheryl hovering over them. In fact, Cheryl was on the other side of the room, chatting with a handsome, curly-haired dude who was a bit sweet, according to Sexy's gaydar.

Making her move, Sexy sauntered up to Randy and the silver-haired man and said, “So, we meet again.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Randy said nervously. “Mr. Jeff Roberts, this is Miss, uh, Sexy Sanchez. Miss Sanchez, meet Mr. Roberts, one of the owners of the Yankees franchise.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Sanchez,” the older white man said, smiling and gazing at Sexy leeringly. He patted Randy on the shoulder. “I could only stop by for a few minutes. My pilot is waiting to fly me to Miami. Anyway, happy birthday, Randy and many more.”

“I'm honored that you stopped by, sir. Have a safe flight to Miami.”

“I'd like to have a very turbulent flight with you,” Sexy said suggestively after Mr. Roberts walked away.

“I don't think Yusef would approve of that.”

“I don't give a damn what Yusef approves of. I think you're hot, and I want you. Do you want me?” Sexy boldly asked, twirling her hair.

“Absolutely, I do. But, it's not that simple. I have a wife and—”

“What your wife doesn't know can't hurt her.”

“I don't keep secrets from Cheryl. I'll tell you what. Let me run this by her and I'll get back to you.”

Randy strode across the room, leaving Sexy with her mouth hanging open. Was dude actually going to ask his wife if he and Sexy could fuck around? Sexy had experienced some weird encounters, but this was by far the strangest shit she'd ever been involved in. And what was even weirder was that instead of telling Randy to kiss her ass, she was patiently sipping champagne and waiting for him to get his wife's permission to fuck her!

T
he enormous ballroom was packed and booming; athletes, models, millionaires, and the rest of New York City's beautiful and powerful people were on their feet singing along with Young Jeezy and DJ Greg Street who were turning it up with one of their hit singles from the “Seen It All” album.

More than $600,000 was spent making Randy's twenty-second birthday one he would never forget—even the Yankees' brass had kicked in a hundred thou toward the surprise bash for their superstar—but for Cheryl, the night had soured a few minutes after the loud chorus of “SURPRISE” had ended when she and Randy walked through the door.

Surrounded by dozens of friends and teammates slapping Randy on his back and wishing him well, Cheryl was still able to spot the little hoochie mama from about thirty yards off. The little bitch looked like a stalking tiger with a clueless, innocent antelope in its sight. Having worn the look herself in her single days, Cheryl's antennae instantly went up as Yusef introduced her and Randy to the slut who called herself Sexy Sanchez. Not taking any chances, she steered Randy away from the girl after only a few minutes.

But now Cheryl gritted her teeth, watching the little slut slinking over to Randy and Jeff Roberts, and then making an obvious play for Randy as soon as Jeff walked away.
I knew she'd be after him as soon as she thought the coast was clear. I shouldn't have left Randy's side for one damn second.
She tried to control her breathing, but there was no controlling her racing heart. There was no doubt about it, that skanky bitch was trouble.

Though some ten feet away, she could clearly see the expression on Randy's face, and it was clear that Sexy-babe was pulling no punches. He looked as if someone had just grabbed his junk and given a seductive squeeze; not many women could make a man sport that look simply by talking. She herself had done it to men many times—and it looked like Sexy had the same provocative talent.

“Yeah,” Cheryl whispered to herself as her husband walked toward her as if in a stupor, “this one's going to be trouble.”

“Hey, babe, I can't believe you did all this for me.” Randy pulled Cheryl into a warm embrace and followed with a soft kiss. “And how did you manage to keep it secret? I really thought we were only going out for a quiet dinner.”

Cheryl patted her husband on the cheek. “It wasn't easy, but it was worth it. You should have seen the look on your face when they yelled, ‘Surprise!' And as a matter of fact, you will get to see it. Stephen said he got a good shot of your expression.”

“Oh, Lawdy, I can imagine what it looks like.” Randy laughed. “I don't think I even wanna see it.”

“Well, I want to see it,” a sugary voice from behind them said.

Cheryl and Randy both swung around to see Sexy slyly grinning at them; one hand on her hip, the other holding an umbrella-topped cocktail.

Little sneaky bitch. I didn't even see her coming.
“Oh, well, perhaps we'll send your boyfriend, Yusef, a copy once they're printed,” Cheryl said coolly.

Sexy was unfazed. “Yusef's not my boyfriend,” she said with a one-shoulder shrug.

Cheryl raised an eyebrow. “That's funny—does he know that? I mean, he did introduce you as his girlfriend.”

Sexy gave another one-shoulder shrug. “Yusef can say what he wants, but as far as I'm concerned, I'm a free agent,” she gave Randy a wink, “as they say in sports lingo.”

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “Fine, give your contact information to the valet on your way out. I'll try to remember to get it.”

“Oh, why take that chance?” Sexy said sweetly. “Why don't I give it to you now?” She turned toward Randy. “Give me your phone, and I'll put my info in. That way I'll be at your beck and call.” She brazenly grabbed the cell phone Randy had been holding in his hand and began pressing buttons.

“Well, well,” Cheryl said, smiling as she lightly pushed Randy aside and stepped in front of him, “why, aren't you a cute, little lollipop, triple-dipped in psycho-slut?” She snatched the phone away from Sexy, and carefully deleted the few letters the girl had managed to type before handing it to her husband.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sexy snapped. “All I did was—”

“All you did is throw your skanky little ass at my husband,” Cheryl hissed.

“Uh, Cheryl,” Randy stammered, “why don't we—”

Sexy gave a wicked grin. “What's got you worked up . . . the fact that I'm throwing or the fact that he's so eager to catch?”

Cheryl's eyes narrowed. “You know I would slap you, but I don't want to get slut on my hands.”

Not waiting for a response, Cheryl grabbed Randy's arm and pulled him away, immediately joining another group of people laughing at some drunken joke. From her peripheral vision, Cheryl could see Sexy standing there, not angry, but with what appeared to be an amused look on her face. It took a few seconds before the girl walked away with an enticing switch of her hips.

Cheryl continued to watch her, and when Sexy looked over her shoulder, their eyes met; it was like steel hitting steel. The mutual stare lasted only a moment before Sexy smiled and gave a wink, then finished her sashay across the room.

I was right,
Cheryl thought as she turned back to the group's drunken banter,
this one's going to be trouble.
With the live performances over, the DJ had taken over, and if by cue, he suddenly started playing “Here I Stand” by Usher. It was the song that played the first night they met, and the song they had played at their wedding. Cheryl and Randy looked at each other at the same time and smiled. Randy gently took her hand and led her to the dance floor.

*  *  *

“I love you so much, babe.”

“I love you, too, baby. I'm glad you enjoyed your party,” Cheryl said, reaching over and turning off the lamp on the night table in their massive bedroom.

“Hey, you know I enjoy everything you do,” Randy said as Cheryl snuggled up next to him in the bed.

“Everything?” Cheryl's hand slowly slid down Randy's body.

“Yeah, everything.” Randy kissed Cheryl's forehead. “But, babe, I'm bushed tonight. I had a little too much to drink, and—”

“Oh, well, let's see what I can do to rejuvenate my man,” Cheryl said with a wicked grin, sliding down in the bed.

A half-hour later Cheryl watched as her husband slept, a satisfied smile on his face. She had laid it on him, every which way possible, and had tears streaming down his face before finally letting him come to his final climax. One of her better blow jobs, if she would say so herself. After all, it was his birthday. And, though she hated to admit it, she wanted to make sure he didn't have reason to think about the skank from earlier in the evening.

The little minx was slick; she didn't make another play for Randy at the party, but Cheryl highly doubted that she'd completely given up. Anxious to get the four-one-one on the girl, she'd made it a point to ask the other wives at the party what they knew about her. While girlfriends of team members tend to be competitive and even backbiting, the wives banded together, if only to fend off groupies.

It turned out that while Sexy had only been around a short time, she'd already made quite a name for herself. She was twenty-one, from Philadelphia, and Yusef Rawls' wifey, a wifey who acted like an out-of-control jump off, that is. When Yusef reported to Tampa for spring training in mid-March, he'd come alone, but two weeks later, Sexy had come for a three-day weekend that stretched to almost a week. And the chick was scandalous. She looked like a ho, dressed like a ho, and acted like a ho, was the word from the wives. Cheryl wasn't above giving her husband an occasional hand job under the table at a restaurant, but never with another couple at the table. And especially not one she'd never met before, at that. Another time, she was told, they were at the VIP section of a popular night club when Sexy announced she wasn't wearing panties, then made a big production of sitting on Yusef's lap. The grinding that followed and the groans he emitted a few minutes later made it clear that a special part of his anatomy had also become clothing free.